


Breaking the Surface

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A walk along the Thames</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking the Surface

Moonlight, sneaking in through the gap in the partially open curtains, gently kissed the slumbering form beside him. Muscles and curves cast beguiling shadows, highlighting the smooth, pale skin of back and buttocks. 

Ray exhaled a whispery breath as he gently stroked Bodie’s shoulders. “Beautiful.”

_Tall, dark and beautiful,_ he could hear Bodie’s voice again. And for awhile, it had seemed that that beauty had been his to hold and enjoy and love. But no longer. Something had changed. Lying there, wrapped in Bodie’s embrace after one of the most pleasurable nights of lovemaking he’d ever experienced, he realised that he had never felt so alone.

Bodie was leaving him behind, emotionally, if not physically.

He quietly got out of their bed. Bodie didn’t stir. He picked up his clothes and moved to the bedroom door. He looked back at his lover and swallowed hard. He’d make it easy for Bodie. He’d be the one to leave, although it felt as if Bodie was already gone. Had been fleeing since Mayli’s bullets had shattered their lives. Had been disappearing ever since they knew that he would make it back to full fitness. Bodie’s withdrawal had been slow, but he was pulling back, drifting away. It was little things: being too busy to share a pint after work, begging off on their rare free days because he had to run errands, turning down home-cooked meals. 

Oh, they still slept together, but there was an uncomfortable distance between them now. Bodie’s eyes refused to meet his when they lay together. The kisses were fewer and farther between. The soft moans of pleasure and encouraging sounds Bodie made when aroused were silent now. And it hurt. It hurt more than the scars and stitches across his chest. Poetic, though, that the scars and the pain were both centred on his heart. The poet in Bodie would appreciate the irony.

He dressed quickly in the lounge and let himself out of Bodie’s flat, locking the door behind him. Bodie had driven them here after the obbo, so he didn’t have his own car, but he didn’t mind walking. It was a quiet night, although most nights were probably quiet at half two. There was a biting wind that promised worse to come. He pulled the collar of his jacket up tighter around his neck as he headed for the footpath by the Thames.

Clouds moved in to cover the moon and there was a scattering of sleet mixed in the wind. It reminded him of other nights. Working for the Met, spent walking his beat, alone then too. He’d spent hours on his own and never minded. He spent most of his time on the drugs squad working alone as well. Not many wanted to work with someone who’d turned on his mates. No, he hadn’t minded being on his own, until he’d joined CI5 and Cowley had given him a partner. Wasn’t love at first sight, that. Far from it. But somehow, they had found the missing pieces of themselves in each other, and eventually, were forced to admit it. The teaming worked, both in and out of CI5. There was no more being alone. Until now. 

He found himself walking on Albert Bridge. He leaned on the railing and considered the river. The Thames was dark and smooth on the surface, but he could make out the quick flow of the water beneath. Like Bodie, he thought. Calm and cool on the outside with deep, strong, unpredictable and dangerous ripples of emotions surging below. He tossed a handful of dried leaves into the river and watched the current sweep them away.

But he had broken through that still surface and for a time had freed the submerged wild, wicked, irrepressible, joy that was Bodie. And they both had revelled in it. The surge and swell of their feelings had brought both of them to life in a way that neither had ever known. 

But something had sunk Bodie’s spirit beneath the waves again, had moved it back down into the silent depths. And Ray knew what that was: a door left carelessly unlocked, a bullet in the heart and a misconstrued and seemingly unforgivable, internal deliberation over his own survival. Fear. Mayli’s bullet had torn a hole through more than his own chest.

Bodie could pretend that it was nothing but sex between them, but Bodie was fooling himself. It was only a matter of time until the feelings Bodie had dammed up and diverted, would break through and drown them both. Bodie was afraid. 

Ray tried to fathom a reason for Bodie’s retreat. They’d both been injured before, both had had close calls. Why was this time so different? He recalled a conversation they’d had early in their partnership, over a long-ago pint... 

_“You’re not an easy man to get to know,” he told Bodie._

_“Me?” Bodie waved a hand in the air and gave a short laugh. “I’m an open book.”_

_Hurt by the casual dismissal, he started to leave but Bodie grabbed his wrist and pulled him back into the chair._

_Bodie leaned forward, face serious, and said, “Learned a long time ago, sunshine, can’t afford to give a damn.”_

_“That’s a lonely way to live, mate.”_

_Bodie smiled sadly and changed the subject._

Was Mayli the final straw for Bodie? After that conversation they’d put all their effort into making the working partnership succeed; they became friends and then, slowly, they became more. Bodie had let down his defences and together they had built a bridge across Bodie’s reluctance to trust. And the bridge held, until Mayli eroded the supports. _... can’t afford to give a damn ..._ Ray heard the words again and he finally understood - Bodie had given a damn, had given so much more than that, and what Bodie feared had almost come to pass – he’d almost lost his heart. He’d let Ray in, let him get under that tough exterior and then he’d almost lost him. He knew Bodie had been shattered by his partner’s near death. Bodie didn’t like being that vulnerable. So Bodie had doused his feelings, submerged the love and put a wall between them. And Ray had understood. He thought Bodie would sort himself out and things would get back to normal. But Bodie was still in retreat.

He shivered as the wind picked up and the sleet turned to snow. His feet were getting cold. He really should go home.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Startled, he looked up to find a policeman addressing him.

“Are you all right, sir? You’ve been standing here for quite awhile. It’s not really a nice night to be out and about.” 

“No. No it’s not.” He coughed and brushed the dampness from his face. It was the sleet, he was sure.

The constable stepped closer, peering at him from under his helmet.

_Christ,_ Ray thought, _the daft sod thinks I’m going to jump!_ To be fair, he probably did look pretty rough. Clad only in his leather jacket, t-shirt, jeans and trainers, he wasn’t dressed for the weather. The sleet melting on his cheeks could reasonably be mistaken for tears. He snorted and then met the policeman’s eyes.

“I’m fine. Really.” He wiped his face with his hand. “Just needed a bit of time on me own.” He wasn’t going to tell the copper that he’d pulled a few bodies out of this very river and if he were going to do himself in, this was not the way he was going to go. 

“Are you sure?”

He sighed and nodded.

“It’s okay, Constable. He’s mine.” Ray turned to see Bodie walking towards them, his ID extended towards the policeman. 

“Been looking for him for hours. CI5 wants to thank you for holding on to him for us.” Bodie winked at him. Ray rolled his eyes.

The policeman hesitated. Bodie patted the lump under his coat. “It’s fine. I’ve got it under control.”

The man shrugged and with a final look at both of them, continued on his way.

The night was silent. The snow was starting to pile up, the wind forming it into small drifts on the path around their feet. With an annoyingly familiar smug grin and a raised eyebrow, Bodie tentatively held open a heavy coat. Ray answered with a chagrined smile of his own and stepped into it. Bodie buttoned it up. The tension flowed off each of them. And he made himself a promise. It might take time but he’d make Bodie know that his heart was safe in the hands of his partner. 

They both spoke at the same time.

“Ray.”

“Bodie.”

A gloved hand reached out and tousled damp, sodden curls. 

A fist, white with cold, delivered a gentle, playful punch to a snow covered shoulder.

The dam broke and a flood of unvoiced understanding carried them home.

 

BDBDBDBDBD

Bodie stretched languidly, enjoying the sweet ache in his bum. He rolled onto his back and grunted in annoyance. His hand reached under the duvet and dragged out the offending items. His scowl melted into a smile. A cockring, one of his best silk ties and a feather. Raymond Doyle was an inventive bugger. 

Ray. 

He opened his eyes and cursed at the moonlight highlighting the empty sheets. He ran a hand over Ray’s pillow. Cold. The bastard had been gone for awhile then. He drew himself out of bed and looked for his clothes. Cords pooled on the floor, shirt draped on the chair, pants decorating the lamp. He laughed out loud. Bloody hell, it had been good – Ray had been like a man possessed. The laughter caught in his throat. No, more like a man trying desperately to stem the tide, to hold on to something slipping through his grasp. 

Bodie sighed. It was his fault. He knew it. Ever since Mayli. Ray’s shooting had left him exposed, vulnerable, afraid. It wasn’t just the physical injuries, though Christ, those were bad enough. The worst hurt and fear came from a conversation he’d had with Cowley. Their boss had questioned whether Ray wanted to come back, if Ray wanted to live. _How strong is his will?_ He’d replied without hesitation, _the strongest_. But had he really believed that? Doubt had surged. He hadn’t understood what Ray had been debating inside that messy head. There should have been no question about his fighting to come back. To come back for Bodie. To not leave him alone, unmoored. 

Not that he’d shared any of that with his partner. No. That wasn’t his style. It wasn’t cool. So he’d buried the hurt and his questions and slowly started to drift away, to protect himself. He spent less time with Ray. He couldn’t trust himself to maintain the distance if they were together all the time. He invented errands that had to be done on their days off; he refused the offers of home-cooked meals; he went home after obbos instead of sharing a pint at their local. And he’d watched the confusion and hurt grow in Ray’s eyes. Maybe that’s what all the new tricks and toys added to their lovemaking were all about. Ray’s last ditch effort to save at least a part of their bond.

He shook the thoughts away, went looking for his coat. Ray’s jacket wasn’t on the settee, but the leather bomber jacket wasn’t going to keep the man warm in this weather. He looked through the back of the wardrobe and found a spare woollen coat. That should do. He let himself out into the brewing storm.

So where would the daft sod go at four in the morning? Only one place, really. Ray walked to sort himself out, and he liked to walk along the Thames, the Albert Bridge being a favourite destination. Contrary git! Who else but Ray would be out in this weather? He cursed as sleet stung the exposed skin on his face and huddled deeper into his coat.

I’m going to have to teach the mad golly that there are better ways to brood. He swore at his own cheek. Better ways. Yeah, like pushing away the best mate, the best friend he’d ever have because he couldn’t face his own demons. Quite a pair – deserved each other, they did. 

The night got colder as he walked. He reached the bridge and saw Ray and a copper. Ha! Would serve Ray right if he got himself nicked! But no – Cowley’d have their guts for garters if that happened. So he called out.

“It’s okay, Constable. He’s mine.” He watched the two men turn in surprise. He extended his ID towards the policeman. 

“Been looking for him for hours. CI5 wants to thank you for holding on to him for us.” He winked slyly at Ray and watched him roll his eyes.

The policeman hesitated. Bodie patted the lump under his coat. “It’s fine. I’ve got it under control.”

The man nodded and with a final look at both of them, continued on his way.

The night was silent but for the sound of the Thames lapping at its bank. The snow was starting to pile up, the wind forming it into small drifts on the path around their feet. With a hopeful smile and a raised eyebrow, he sheepishly held open the heavy coat he’d brought for Ray. Ray answered with an indulgent smile of his own and stepped into the offered warmth. Bodie buttoned it up. He could feel the tension drain from Ray as his own floated away. And he made himself a promise. He trusted this man, full stop. He wouldn’t hide himself from Ray any longer. He knew that his heart was safe in the hands of this man shivering in front of him. 

They spoke at the same time.

“Ray.”

“Bodie.”

He reached out with a gloved hand and tousled damp, sodden curls. 

A fist, white with cold, delivered a gentle, playful punch to his snow covered shoulder.

The dam broke with the realisation that Ray was worth the risk and Bodie allowed the flood of unvoiced understanding to sweep them home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Anna for the beta!  
> Written for the "Discovered on the Thames" challenge at DIAlj


End file.
